


Once upon a monster

by swimmingwithtitans



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 12:56:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swimmingwithtitans/pseuds/swimmingwithtitans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone was weary of each other, not knowing who the psycho-path amongst them was, but unbeknownst to them; it was someone who they thought highly of.</p><p>Crappy summary, sorry~ I suck at these..</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once upon a monster

**Author's Note:**

> I know I shouldn't be starting another story when I can barely keep up my other ones, but I wanted to try something dark and angsty and see how this plays out.
> 
> Ahh, Eren and Levi will both make an appearance soon- the latter maybe next chapter more than likely, But for now I'll let you speculate on who the "killer" is even though I gave away a huge hint.*chuckles*

He's going to kill you.  
Right here in the middle of this snow-covered godforsaken forest, he's going to kill you! Fight, Vivian, fight!

Vivian Foster, struggled, battling with the ropes that cut into her bare flesh, feeling the sting of a fierce arctic wind as it howled through the mountain ridges that surrounded them.  
She was alone. Aside from the psychopath who had captured her.  
God, why had she trusted him?  
How in the world had she thought that he was her rescuer? That his mission was to heal her until, after the blizzard, he could call for help or take her to the nearest small hospital?  
Had she been lured by his sincere concern as he'd come upon her broken leg? Had it been those grey, grey eyes? His charming smile? His soft words of assurance? Or had it been because she'd had no choice, because without his aid she would surely die alone in a deep, forgotten ravine?  
Whatever the reason, she'd believed him, trusted him.  
Fool! Idiot!

He'd prove himself to be her worst nightmare, an evil wolf in sheep's clothing, an now, oh god, now she was paying the price.  
Shivering, certain she would surely die, she was naked and lashed to a tree, the thick rope cutting into her bare arms and torso, a gag so tight over her lips that she could hardly breathe.  
And he was close. So close she could feel the warmth of his whisky breath sifting around the trunk of the sturdy pine, hear him grunt as he put all his strength into securing her, see a flash of white dress pants and shirt from the corner of her eye.  
Another tug on the rope.  
She gasped in pain, her whole body jerking even tighter against the scaly bark of the tree. Pain shot through her and she set her jaw. She just needed him to get close enough so she can kick him hard. Hit his shin. Or his nuts. Whichever was closer within her reach.  
She couldn't let him get away with this. Wouldn't!  
Her heart raced painfully and she tried to come up with a way to save herself, to break free of her bonds and climb the snow-covered trail he dragged her down. Oh, she fought him. Wriggling and fighting, flinging herself at him, trying to free herself, to avoid being brought down here to whatever fate he'd planned. She could still see fresh tracks in the thick snow. His steady, evenly dress shoe prints and her smaller, wild, erratic barefoot tracks made when she'd tried to get away, even as he'd prodded her with his sharp knife. There were drops of blood in the white snow, proving that he'd cut her, that he meant business.

Dear God, help me,she silently prayed to the gun-metal gray heavens that threatened more snow.  
He laced the restraining ropes even tighter.  
"No!" Vivian tried to scream."No! No! No!"But the foul gag covered her mouth and kept her cries muffled and weak while the panic surged through her blood caused her heart to thunder.  
Why? Oh God, why me?

She blinked back the tears but felt the unexpected drops fall from her eyes stain and freeze upon her cheeks.  
Don't cry. Whatever you do, do not let him see that you fear him. Don't give the son of a bitch the satisfaction. But don't fight, either. Pretend to give up; fake it and act like you've finally accepted your grimly fate. Maybe his guard will slip and you can somehow get hold of his damn knife.

Her stomach clenched even tighter and she tried to keep his weapon, a butcher knife used for a gutting game, in her sights. Razor sharp, it could slice through the ropes easily. Just as easily as it could pierce and cut her flesh open.  
Oh God....

Her knees went weak and it was all she could not do to bawl and beg, to mewl and plead, to offer to do anything he wanted if he would just not harm her.  
Go ahead, let him see that you're resigned to your fate...but keep your eye on the knife, with its menacing, deadly blade.  
She was shivering harder now; shaking so violently that slivers from the bark were digging into her skin.Was she trembling because of the bitter London wind, gusts she was certain blowing down from the arctic? Or was she quivering from the fear that tore at her insides?  
Beneath the gag, her teeth chattered and she felt the raw wind buffet her as he worked. She caught slight glimpses of his legs, warmed by thick stockings and the white dress pants, his heavy, fur lined dress shirt protecting him from the very elements to which she was exposed.  
This lying son of a bitch had no intention of saving you, or healing your wounds after you broke your leg. All along, the sick bastard kept you alive, citing the storm as a reason he couldn't get help, only to kill you. In the time he wanted. In the manner he wanted. He was savoring the anticipation, while you half fell in love with him.

Bile rose up in her throat and she nearly wretched at the thought. He knew it. She had seen it in his eyes, that he'd read her utter dependency, her silly, stupid and pathetic desire to pleasure him.  
If she could, she would kill him right now.  
Right here. Right now.  
She heard him grunt in satisfaction again, as he pulled the taut rope even tighter, forcing her buttocks into the sharp bark, her feeble shoulders to be held fast. She could still kick, but he kept himself far from the damage she might inflict.  
But he was careful to stay on the far side of the tree and keep away from her heels. And the cold wind was beginning to take its toll. She had trouble focusing, thinking of anything but the ice in her flesh, the sheer frigidity settling in her bones.  
Blackness pulled at her vision.  
Each breath she drew was labored and thin, her lungs on fire from lack of oxygen.  
Maybe unconsciousness would be the way out. The blackness was soothing, taking the sting out of the wind. But then she saw him move so that he was in front of her with his cruel, relentless gaze.  
How had she ever thought he was handsome? How had she ever fantasized about him? How had she ever considered making love to him?  
Slowly he removed the knife from his belt. Its cruel metallic surface winked in the shifting gray light.  
She was doomed.  
She knew it.  
Even before he slowly, inexorably raised the blade.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you spot any errors since I don't have a beta for this story, flames and any kind of feedback is appreciated.


End file.
